


You and I (Stand Side by Side)

by Hornet394



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: (nothing to do with the little mermaid though), Alternate Universe - Mermaid, Baby Oh Sehun, Child Neglect, Domestic Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Homophobia, Immortality, M/M, Mentioned Underage Pregnancy, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Substance Abuse, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 03:04:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12878853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hornet394/pseuds/Hornet394
Summary: The Water God has taken back his family. In the process, Yifan's family is destroyed, and now he must pick up the pieces and glue them back together.





	You and I (Stand Side by Side)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fantasy EXO but I just realized I hadn't crossposted it lmao
> 
> #FE016
> 
> Thanks so much for this lovely prompt! I enjoyed it thoroughly. I'm also considering a sequel, so... (wait a million years for it) Thanks so much to my lovely beta, thanks for all the hard work you've put in for me x) Also thanks to the mods who have been more than accommodating to me. Hope you all enjoy! (another extra warning for inaccuracies in the plot)

[28 years, 53 days]

“You are very confident, and very brave.”

“I am neither of those things,” Yifan starts. “But I love him.”

//

[14 years, 362 days]

Yifan’s life is one filled with pain. A ballad of low, deep trumpets, a long drawn out tune of suspense. He had been born in a typical fisherman’s family. An only son, with two elder sisters and one younger.

His story starts at the pier, a badly-rolled cigarette in hand. Jongdae holds a lighter out and the flames flicker weakly, but it gets the job done, lighting up their little sphere. 

“Haven’t seen you in school,” Jongdae says, lighting his own stick.

“You’re still going?” Yifan snorts. The smoke curls in his lungs unsettlingly. “Selina had a fever. Alexis is still not home yet, had to take over their shifts. Where’s Baekhyun?”

“Ha!” Jongdae bursts out. “The kid has classes from that uni student over the breaks, don’t you remember?”

“She’s back already?” Yifan grimaces. But no matter how bitter Jongdae and Yifan is, they know Baekhyun needs her. 

“We gotta go soon,” Jongdae says. He stands up, stubs his cigarette out on his own arm, adding to the red marks on top. Yifan’s rubs his cig on the nails of the wood that holds up the pier, and joins Jongdae.

Jongdae’s sneakers are new, Yifan realises. They’re very clean.

They pass by someone’s hut and their dog barks, angry and loud. Along the docks, activity lumbers. The ship of Yifan and Jongdae’s family, The Empress, is not the only one sailing the seas today.

They get to the ship - both of their families are already there, and the vessel’s engines are thrumming violently. “Where’s Eric?” Jongdae’s mother yells down, shining a flashlight down. 

“No idea,” Jongdae calls up. “Baekhyun might know.”

“We all leave the boy alone,” Yifan’s father says, emerging from the cabin. His voice is low and gruff as usual, leaving no space for negotiation.

Then it is grueling hours of preparation for their trip out. Grueling, but satisfying. Yifan’s hands are decorated with callouses and scabs of wounds that re-open almost as soon as he touches the ropes.

The faint smell of alcohol permeates the cabin as soon as Yifan steps in to rest. His rubber boots make disgusting squelching noises once he steps into the threshold, but it is nothing compared to the sound of spices and meat of his mother’s deep-frying. Smoke funnels out of the pipe in the ceiling. Isabel is there, rationing the already cooked food into 8 portions for all of them.

Yifan sighs and sits down on one of the chairs, wiping sweat off his brow. Eric, Jongdae’s younger brother, finally announces his arrival as he marches into the cabin with a wronged look on his face.

“Come here boy!” Yifan’s mother snaps, and Eric stalks over irritably, but doesn’t speak out. “Isabel, go take care of the iceboxes. Boy, you sort out the food.”

10-year old Isabel glances at Eric and quickly scampers off, putting on her own pair of rubber boots and running out the door. Eric squats down where Isabel had been, rolling up the sleeves of his school uniform.

“You sure you don’t want to change out of that first?” Yifan raises an eyebrow, “It’ll be you who’s doing the washing later on.”

Eric glares at Yifan, but disappears into the store-room to change into his working overalls and an apron.

“You, boy!” His mother catches his attention, and Yifan quickly obliges. “How many times have I told you to take off your damn boots inside?” She barks, “Now go out there and work like a man!”

14-year old Yifan gives a glance at 13-year old Eric, and then walks out.

The sun sets just as they lift the anchor.

//

[28 years, 51 days]

Smoke once again curls between Yifan’s fingers, and he impatiently puffs on it again. There are only glowing embers on the end of his cigarette, barely illuminating his fingers. The night whistles in his ears as he crosses his legs on the chair.

His plate is finished; Jongdae’s is hardly touched. Yifan can’t really stomach food, not now, but Yixing had always hated it when Yifan didn’t finish all his food, even in outdoor cafes such as the one he is in now. Said that it was a bad influence on their son, encouraged him to be picky with his food.

“You haven’t gone back in years, Yifan,” Jongdae frowns. “Why now? Is it about... Yixing?”

Yifan grips a crisp, sharp nod. 

“Yifan,” Jongdae sighs, “you can’t stop- Why, Yifan, why now? Do you know how busy Baekhyun is? I have students - neither of us can just drop everything for you.”

“Then I’ll have to go alone,” Yifan says. The guilt is mounting inside of him as he sees Jongdae’s stony expression, the way his calloused fingers curl round his own Marlboro, tobacco dropping out from the end. Yifan stubs his cig and pulls a lighter from his pocket to have a new one. The sudden flame startles him momentarily.

“Fuck you, Wu Yifan,” Jongdae finally grits out, then stands up from the table and storms out the restaurant.

The other patrons of the outdoor cafe jerk up from their smartphones from the commotion, and upon finding nothing particularly interesting, turn back into their self-absorbed little bubbles. Yifan waves for the bill and leaves a generous tip, perhaps as an apology. He takes his cig with him and leaves the dining area, his other hand pulling his phone out.

The restaurant isn’t that far from his house, but he’s not staying there tonight. The cab comes, and Yifan is delivered to a hotel.

“Huh, so you’re one of the guys up at Northpoint Hill? Ugly business, there. So sorry, man.”

Yifan doesn’t speak, resisting the urge to put his cig back into his mouth. The cabdriver swallows and says silent, perhaps now made aware of the severity of his question. The quietness hangs above both of them like a noose.

The hotel the city has put them in is a relatively new one. Small, but high-class, as if some sort of compensation for the losses of their home and family. There is always the clean, crisp scent of air fresheners, as if everything has been renewed, washed away by the flood.

The receptionist, a tall, mature women gives him a friendly nod, recognizing him. Her make-up cakes on her face from the long hours of her work. He nods back and heads to the elevators.

The lobby is very brightly lit, as hotel lobbies tend to go, but there are only two or so groups, perhaps waiting for a taxi. The elevator stops in front of Yifan with a quiet “ding” that startles the people in the lobby, and Yifan steps inside the cold metallic contraption.

Yifan enters his hotel room. A lonely briefcase lies in the corner - it’s the one he had taken to work when the waters had come in. There’s the ration pack the city had given them for this freak disaster, an ugly green bag. Barely anything has been saved from the house - the water has taken everything away, leaving a soaked skeleton. Everything that Yifan and Yixing had held dear had just been taken away from them.

Nonetheless, Yifan will take what is his back, starting with his husband and his son. He’s already booked a train ticket back to Bluemont for tomorrow, this very morning - he hadn’t really expected Jongdae and Baekhyun to go with him. They’re just humouring him, they think he’s been driven mad through losing Yixing and Sehun. They don’t really believe him when he says Yixing is still alive, Sehun is still alive, but Yifan himself knows it acutely, because water cannot destroy a son of the sea.

//

[14 years, 362 days]

The thing about Eric is that no one seems to think that he can be a man, in the most conventional sense of the town. There were talks, when he was 10, between their two families about sending Eric to be an acolyte in Bluemont’s Temple to the Water God.

Jongdae’s mother had been the one to put her foot down - If Eric is not suited for fishing, he might as well go to school just like Baekhyun. There is no honour in becoming an acolyte.

So the two families pooled in money to send Eric to the same posh primary school that Baekhyun had been sent to, but unlike Baekhyun, Eric hadn’t been able to make it into the top class, let alone top 10 that would guarantee him a scholarship into the best state academic school.

Baekhyun had, so it is understandable that both sets of parents had had high expectations of Eric. They hadn’t, for Jongdae, or for Yifan, to them it was fairly obvious that Jongdae and Yifan was to inherit the family business, as their first-born sons. Baekhyun was an affordable loose cannon, because through Baekhyun their family received stipends from the state every month, it seemed fair to spend these stipends on Baekhyun himself.

They had went through a gamble, with Eric, but their second son had failed them.

And they had been ashamed, momentarily, because Eric was clearly not cut out to be a fisherman’s boy, but he wasn’t even as good as their adopted son, Baekhyun. It was to be decided, then, that they were to stop this investment; they would not fund Eric to a good secondary school; not even the one that Jongdae was going to, now. Instead, Eric goes to a state industrial school. The hope is that he’d man up that way, maybe learn a skill or two and go to the city.

The ship is moving slowly, dragging the gigantic net behind it. Jongdae’s father is at the helm, smoking, peering into the darkness.

The green net is heavy with bounty. They won’t know what’s inside until they get back to land, but the weight is always promising. It’s quite a pleasant morning. The waves are gentle and languid, as if the Water God has turned his radiant smile on The Empress, blessing her voyage today.

Yifan wonders which of the Water God’s acolytes are praying today, and whether their prayers are genuine and true.

The boat lurches suddenly; everything tilts, and Yifan grasps the closest railing as everything slides sideways.

An untouched bowl drops onto the floor and rolls out of the cabin and onto the deck of the ship. Yifan reaches a hand out to stop one of their coolers from sliding into the ocean, and Jongdae’s father, on the helm, is clearly struggling.

“It’s the net!” Jongdae’s mother calls from the other side of the boat.

“Hurry up!” Yifan’s father roars, and Yifan almost slips on the slippery deck in his haste to get to the other end of the net. There’s a large fish trapped inside - too large for the net to hold. They have to lower it down again.

“Fucking waste of time,” Jongdae’s mother mutters. They’ve been trailing this net for about an hour and now they have to let it down, all because of the rascal that has swam into the deathtrap. Better lose this hour than to lose their entire net, after all. The large creature isn’t moving around that much, which is surprising. It’s still too heavy for the net, however. Yifan has seen fish that have struggled in the net before: a dolphin that had caused the whole net to crash down along with them. There had been scratches up and down the beast’s back, before finally bursting into red. The ship’s captain had fled as soon as he saw the blood, before the sharks would come.

Yifan pushes force behind his motions, trying to release the lever that holds their net up, but the current is strong and the wood is slippery. “Give me space!” Jongdae shouts into his ear, and between the two of them, the lever gives way. Almost instantly the ship shoots forward, losing much of its weight, and the wheel turns, berserk. Jongdae’s father quickly grabs hold of it, and Yifan peers across the deck. 

The net is now completely submerged in water, only connected to the boat on Yifan’s father’s end. They will have to haul it up, and then recast it, and Yifan’s mother, who has wandered on board, is praying continuously, hoping that the net is not torn. The water is silent, no sign of whatever had been caught in their nets thrashing away. In the night, with only the moon as his guide, Yifan could have sworn he saw a pale, porcelain face in the waves.

//

[28 years, 52 days]

When the train slides into Bluemont’s station, it is nearly midnight. Yifan gets off with the ugly green backpack on his shoulders. 

“Welcome back, Yifan,” Selina says, standing up from the bench she had been waiting for him on. A three year old rascal stares up at Yifan with curiosity. 

“Long time no see.” He gives her an awkward hug, then the two of them start walking towards the exit of the station. The child hurriedly runs up to Selina, and she picks him up. Yifan doesn’t speak, and nor does Selina. Where do we even start?

How’s the fish? Whose child is this, yours, Alexis’, or Isabelle’s? Who’s the father? How’s Father and Mother? Are we still living in that same house? Did you put the money I sent you to good use?

Where do we even start?

They have a new car, at least.

“Brian, no. Your uncle will be sitting in the front seat, not you.” The kid pouts but obeys. 

The car is warm and cozy. The midnight radio is on, but very muffled. Selina has grown taller, Yifan realizes.

The radio signal comes from the town, not the village, so neither Selina nor Yifan knows what the two hosts are rambling about. Selina’s wearing a shirt Yifan faintly remembers being in their mother’s wardrobe.

“The kid...” he finally asks. 

“Mine.” Selina answers. “I married Harold.” 

There is a set of windchimes hanging from the rearview mirror, and it jingles happily, filling the silence for the two of them. Yifan doesn’t look out the window at all because all he will see is water.

With a jolt, the car stops. Yifan looks out and sees himself in front of Jongdae’s parents’ home.

“He still doesn’t want to see me,” he states.

“I’m sorry, Yifan,” Selina sighs. “You know I’d be happy to have you, and so would Harold. But our father... You wouldn’t know, but his heart has given up a few times already.”

“That’s fine,” Yifan says briskly. “I won’t be around long.”

He turns to the backseat where the little guy is playing morosely with his own fingers, a little imaginary story of his own. “See you, big guy,” he says, then opens the car door.

The kid perks up belatedly at the sudden attention, but Yifan is already striding up to knock on the door.

“The key’s underneath the mat,” Selina calls from the car. “No one lives here anymore. Visit soon.”

Yifan gives her a brisk nod and bends down, feeling for the rugged welcome mat in the darkness. Underneath it is a single silver key. “Thank you, Selina,” he calls, then enters the house.

//

[16 years, 3 days]

As a coastal city, St Francis’ Secondary has its fair shares of trips to the sea. The town kids that come up from Blueton or Applebaum Hill are excited, of course, but Yifan and Jongdae are well acquainted with the sea.

Too well acquainted, so when the town kids are changing into their swimming trunks, the two of them have already cast themselves into the waves under their teacher’s shocked gaze.

Jongdae has swam off quickly - the boy has always been a quick swimmer from his frequent races with Baekhyun. Yifan, on the other hand, likes to take his time. The surface of the water is warm, but underneath it’s cold. The town kids will soon find out, but for now Yifan sinks into his loving embrace.

As a fisherman’s son, he is very acquainted with the water, and he hates it. How he envies the town kids with their swim trunks, their wide, wide eyes! Their shiny new watches that they have to turn back and put it down, the novelty at simply being here! A fishing village, how exotic! Look at the nets, and boats, the paint peeling, the hand-drawn words! Look at the fish put out to dry, look at the little temporary shacks, the orange life-savers! Single-eyed Joe is walking his shaggy dog, how adorable!

Alfred had lost his eye when a lobster had sprung from its cage, it hadn’t been beautiful. His then-girlfriend, Miriam, left him because he could no longer work on her family’s boat. 

So Yifan loves the sea, but he hates that he loves it. In the shallow depths, mostly harmless sea critters float by, not at all intimidated by his motionless form. He lets the current take him deeper, and deeper, and deeper.

Away from his problems, away from a solemn father and an easy to anger mother, away from a heavily pregnant, unmarried older sister, away from two quiet younger sisters. Away from the stench of alcohol and smoke that fills his lungs, letting the sea cleanse him.

He doesn’t go too far, of course. The sea may seem serene, but dangers constantly lurk beneath. The chatters of his classmates sound far away, especially when he is underwater. The sea is always deceiving. 

Bursts of colour surround him, and then he is dragged under.

Because this is his little secret, and his alone.

He touches his angelic features, and his angel smiles warmly, cute dimples showing. Unlike Yifan’s own tousled hair, the angel’s black hair has always lay obediently down, defying laws of physics. The angel draws him in deeper, and deeper, lacing their fingers together, until they reach inhuman depths, but Yifan trusts the angel, because as long as he’s touching the angel he can survive underwater. He doesn’t have to go to the surface for air, he won’t be affected by the pressure, he just needs the angel and he will become like the angel.

And in the deep, dark depths, where light doesn’t reach, warm lips slot against his own, taking his oxygen, but he doesn’t need it, because his angel is here.

//

[28 years, 52 days]

Jongdae’s parents’ house is just as he remembers. Two floors, a very typical small family house. An open kitchen with the dining table on the ground floor, put nicely. All the appliances are stacked together hazardously, but they show signs of recently having been cleaned, perhaps Selina. There are no signs to indicate where Jongdae’s parents have gone.

He walks up the stairs and they creak a little. Two rooms, one looking over the road, one looking over the sea. Jongdae used to envy the room with the seaview. That was his parents’ room. Yifan opens the door to Jongdae and Baekhyun’s room.

Their beds are still there, looking exceptionally tiny, mashed into each side of the room. The pillows are lay askew, but moths have bitten through them. The window is slightly open on the top, and the wooden windowsill shows sign of rot from years of rain. Captain America bedsheets opposite to Ironman ones.

There are no more photos on the drawers, not even empty frames adorn the wooden surface. Woodlice has buried their way into the drawers.

This is not the room Selina had intended him to stay.

Instead, Yifan makes his way to the other room, the one Jongdae had used to want. A quaint little window looks out on the sea, where the docks are. Their family ship used to be anchored right there, between those two benches. It had been a lovely sight in sunset.

He is now sitting on the adult’s bed, looking out on the sea. The window looks so small, now. Yifan puts his backpack on Jongdae’s mother’s rocking chair. There is a bedframe in the corner, it used to be Eric’s bed. It’s also much smaller than Yifan remembers.

He makes a mental note to move it to the attic tomorrow morning, or else he might wake up with a ghost by his side.

//

[15 years, 0 days]

He had met his angel late at night, when everyone was asleep. Alexis had come back. There had been shouting, and in a rage he had dashed out, adamant to get some space. Isabelle had been crying.

He hates it when his baby sister cries. There was something inherent in her that made her simultaneously lovable and despicable. Despicable because Yifan’s parents favoured her, lovable because Yifan could see why his parents favoured her.

The dock looks eerily monstrous in the darkness. He had never seen it this way, his previous late night experiences with the docks revolving around their ship. Now, without that duty in hand, the docks doesn’t hold the feeling of home anymore.

The waves lap at his bare ankles. He knows it’s risky this way, because he is so vulnerable right now. Tempting fate, as his mother would say. He is their only son, after all. His family’s fishing business relies on him. He has to be extra cautious, she says.

As if Jongdae is worth any less to his parents.

Then the wood had suddenly gave way, and he had fallen into the cold, dark water. There was wood around him, and the ice had seeped into the very marrows of his bone. He knew he needed to go up, and up, and up, but his clothes was weighing him down, the cold was weighing him down, and he was losing consciousness.

There was no use swimming, flailing. It is the wrong weather for a soak, and Yifan knows how helpless he is, precisely because he knows the waters very well.

He was going to die.

Then his angel had come, eyes wide and adorable, beautiful emerald tail flowing behind him like a shawl, and as soon as his angel touched their hands together, Yifan had been saved.

For that instant, their eyes had locked with one another. Their eyes had locked, and Yifan had been saved.

His angel had touched him with such urgency, his eyes bright and clear. Their hands had interwoven with one another, and Yifan stopped moving around.

He doesn’t once ask what his angel is, where his angel is from. His angel had held his hand and told him everything, writing in the sand that adorns the bottom of the ocean. Yixing is his name.

No words ever pass between them - his angel does not speak underwater, and Yifan does not want to break that silence. Shadows draw him into unimaginable depths, low and seductive.

Does a siren know her voice kills until she sings?

The ocean is filled with creatures he could only ever encounter in his dreams, in a world where he is all-powerful, invincible. Luminescent creatures with sharp teeth, fish that brush by, hurriedly swimming out from between pages of Yifan’s books. There are so many critters on the ocean floor, and the best sight in the world is his angel nestled between the corals, so many of them, so vibrant and colourful.

Do you hear it? The way the angel beckons for him. It is laughter that can only be heard by the two of them.

Their hands are interwoven, and Yifan leans down to kiss those lips. His angel meets him eagerly, every time. He is Yifan’s gem, his secret treasure.

//

[28 years, 53 days]

He wakes up with the sun shining in his face. The blinds do little to nothing to block out the rising sun. He can hear noises in the house, but he is not afraid. The one thing Yixing and him had been really afraid of had been the sea, but this fear had already come true.

The stairs creak once more as Yifan walks down. 

Baekhyun sits on one of the chairs casually, with sweater and sports pants on. His hair is still gelled down. “Jongdae’s outside,” he calls. Yifan nods in thanks.

The door to the backyard is ajar, and Yifan can smell the tobacco as he steps through the threshold. Grey smoke taints the morning dew on the leaves. They are wild ones, not the flowers Jongdae’s mother used to cultivate so painstakingly, as they were the only flowers that could really bloom near the ocean.

Jongdae drops his cig and puts it out with his leather shoe. “What for, Yifan?” He asks aloud. The normally cheery man has become completely rigid. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, and his hair is tousled and matted. 

Birds chirp in the distance, announcing the arrival of morning, the arrival of spring, of renewal. 

“I want my family back.” Yifan answers.

“You’re not right in mind,” Jongdae growls out, “We’re taking the next train back and we’ll find you a doctor.”

“No.” Yifan gives a short, succinct reply, then turns and leaves. He doesn’t need to explain anymore to Jongdae.

Behind him, Jongdae lights another cig with shaking hands, and drops the lighter onto the grass in his haste. The gas spills out and a fire starts, but Jongdae quickly stomps it out, but there is already a scorched embellishment imprinted in the backyard.

“Help me see what’s going on in that head of yours, Wu Yifan,” Jongdae rasps, “Because I can’t see shit right now. They’re dead, Wu Yifan. No one could have survived that.”

“I’ve just been trying to tell you the truth, Dae, but you won’t listen to me. They’re here, and I want them back.”

“What the hell do you want me to believe?”

Jongdae’s scream brings Baekhyun to the yard. He looks uncomfortable as he leans against the doorframe, out of place.

They bring it back inside the house, and they settle around the small dining table. Yifan’s family used to have a bigger dinner table, so the two families had tended to congregate around Yifan’s house if needed. Jongdae sits down on a chair gingerly, his suit jacket draped on the back. Yifan chooses a stool that looks to the direction of the kitchen, and Baekhyun slumps back into the chair he was on.

Jongdae moves the ashtray more to the center of the table and offers Yifan a cig. He takes it. “Ma and Pa would be rolling in their graves, seeing their faggot sons sitting at the family table,” Jongdae says bitterly, and Baekhyun gives him a warning glare. So that answers Yifan’s questions, at least. He wasn’t aware that had been a funeral. He probably wasn’t invited, anyway. He just found it strange that no one bothered to tell him that, not even Jongdae and Baekhyun.

“Dae…” Baekhyun says warningly, drumming his fingers against the table. Jongdae gives a dismissive snort but turns towards Yifan expectantly.

Yifan takes a heavy breath. “Baekhyun,” He starts instead, “Do you remember what happened six years ago, when I called you in the middle of the night?”

Baekhyun’s brow furrows, revealing a deep etch of frown lines. “Which one... is it the one about Sehun?”

Yifan nods, lighting the stick between his fingers. “Jongdae,” Yifan continues, “Do you remember what I told you when you asked me where Sehun came from?”

“Yes.” Jongdae says mutedly, “You said there was no mother.” That had been another sour patch in their friendship, six years ago. Jongdae refused to accept that Yifan had cheated on Yixing with a woman, but the pure adoration Yixing had for Sehun made Jongdae soft for Sehun, as well. That had been a... rough patch.

“There is no mother,” Yifan said, “Yixing carried him to full term, and Baekhyun here helped deliver Sehun.”

Baekhyun leans back on his chair, watching Jongdae’s reaction.

“What the fuck?” Jongdae says, but the tone is off, and his eyes dart back and forth between Yifan and Baekhyun.

“You’re fucked up, Yifan.”

“Is Baekhyun?” Yifan asks. Jongdae takes another long, impatient drag of his stick. His hands are trembling.

“I have his record on my computer.” Baekhyun says quietly. “Health records, photos of the fetus, measurements - Jongdae, Yixing isn’t like us.”

An odd sense of finality rests on the three of them with Baekhyun’s words.

“Then what is he?” Jongdae spits out immediately, jabbing his cig on the table. Ash falls on the table, and it leaves a scorch mark as the stick goes out. “You kept him from us for - eleven years? Sorry - from me?”

“And how were you going to react?” Yifan rebukes instantly, defensiveness rising in front of him. This is why he hadn’t dared tell Jongdae what was going on. They were brothers, yes, but Yifan knew exactly how Jongdae thought. “How were you going to treat him and Sehun?”

“I’m your fucking friend, Wu Yifan!” Jongdae stands up, his face getting flushed with frustration, “You don’t fucking keep stuff from me!”

Yifan bites his lip, he know Jongdae’s right. But how could he tell Jongdae he had been afraid? Jongdae and Baekhyun was all they had. They were all Yixing and Sehun had. Yifan had been afraid.

“Kim Jongdae!” Baekhyun intervenes, grabbing Jongdae by the wrist. Jongdae twitches violently, but he doesn’t shake Baekhyun off. His glare on Yifan is already softening.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Yifan sighs, “All I want is to get Yixing and Sehun back.”

“From where?” Baekhyun asks calmly, and then, using the same tone, turns to Jongdae. “Sit down, Dae.”

Jongdae sits down and puts his stick back into his mouth, chewing on the ends of it. Baekhyun hands him his lighter.

And Yifan speaks.

//

[17 years, 0 days]

“Who are you?”

Yifan looks up from his birthday cake. The doorbell had rung, just now, but everyone Yifan needed was here. Alexis, and her baby Carlos, Selina, Isabelle, his parents; and then Jongdae’s parents, Jongdae himself, sullen little Eric, and Baekhyun.

“I’m here to wish Yifan happy birthday.”

It is an unfamiliar voice, lyrical but powerful. Eric perks up from across the table. Surprised, Yifan stands up, wishing to take a look. 

The boy standing in front of their door is bare-footed, with only loose pants to cover up his modesty. His pale skin is covered with sand, and his pink nipples are erect from the stimulation. His slender legs are knobble-kneed. The porcelain features of his angels smile at him, and the two dimples appear.

“Yixing?”

His angel nods vigorously, as if an excited puppy rewarded with a snack.

“Ma, he’s one of my friends,” Yifan explains, pulling Yixing in by the arm. His mother stares at them with shrewd eyes, clearly questioning where he had the time to go make friends. “At least put some slippers on,” She says instead.

Yixing stumbles slightly when he puts his feet in the bamboo slippers, but his expression betrays no discomfort. Yifan’s eyes snap onto his legs with fascination. After all, one day ago it had been a beautiful emerald, shimmering like a rainbow.

“This is Yixing.” He introduces as his mother goes fetch another stool for Yixing. This time his angel winces slightly as he sits down.

Yifan can see Yixing looking around the dining area in interest, and he follows his angel’s gaze, hoping to see what Yixing is seeing. 

The oven door is half-ajar, its innards hung up to dry. An embroidered patchwork decorates the space above it. The stove is blackened and greasy, having long shown signs of wear and tear. Red and blue checkered towels lie next to it.

There is still flour on the counter, a few loose remnants that will be eaten by rats overnight. A streak of dried strawberry juice slides along the edge of the counter and onto the wood of the cabinet. There is a pot of tea on boil.

Failing to see what is so mesmerizing, Yifan turns his gaze back on Yixing. “Hi, I’m Jongdae, Yifan’s best friend.” Jongdae stresses, waving at Yixing over the table. “You’re not a school friend, Yixing?” Isabelle asks innocently. 

Yixing shakes his head but wisely stays silent, looking to Yifan for instruction. “Don’t think I’ve seen you round before,” Yifan’s father grunts, “Whose kid are you?”

Yixing tugs on Yifan’s shirt underneath the table. Jongdae catches it - Yifan knows, from the way Jongdae’s smile turns rigid.

“He’s from the temple,” Yifan mumbles vaguely.

“Didn’t know you were religious,” Jongdae mutters. “I don’t just hang around you, Jongdae,” Yifan says sharply, annoyed by Jongdae’s petty behaviour. “Of course you don’t.” Jongdae snaps. Baekhyun’s eyes flit between the three of them.

“Let’s have the birthday cake.” Yifan’s mother changes the topic the only way she can. Jongdae’s mother stands up to help her take the cake out of the fridge.

It’s a store bought one. Yifan’s mother’s hands are no longer steady enough for the decorations, and Alexis, with the baby, cannot help either.

“Happy birthday, Yifan,” Yixing says, his voice lovely and beautiful. Yifan wants to ask him why he is here, how he is above land, where is his tail? But the words are stoppered in his throat, and he can only look at Yixing, tracing his every detail, taking a proper look at his angel above the waves.

Jongdae is still brooding. Baekhyun sends Yixing a small smile - Baekhyun isn’t close to half the people on this table, he’s at out of place as Yixing is. Eric’s eyes are surprisingly piercing, and it is this fiery gaze that tears Yifan out of his stupor.

Jongdae’s mother switches off the lights before she sits down, and they light the candles on the cake. There’s only one, the same one they used for Isabelle and Selina’s cake. They sing the happy birthday song - the girls do, along with Baekhyun. Jongdae sings it underneath his breath - neither he or Yifan have been particularly sentimental people.

Yixing doesn’t, because he doesn’t know the song, but he is clearly amused by the whole practice.

After the song, Yifan wishes for- he blows out the candles. A birthday wish should never be uttered out loud, after all. Yixing claps along with everyone else. Then, little Isabelle, childlike glee in her eyes, pushes a box to Yifan. “Brother, open my box first!”

Yifan ruffles her hair indulgently, saying, “Let’s wait till everyone gives me their gifts, okay?”

A sharp intake of breath from Yixing makes Yifan look at him.

“A gift?” Yixing frowns, “I did not know I needed one... I only came because Yifan said...”

Then he leans forward and kisses Yifan on the lips. It is soft and chaste, but infinitely more infectious than the intimacy they had exchanged underneath the ocean. It is a warmth that spreads throughout Yifan, makes him forget where he is, makes him want to crawl inside Yixing’s heart and stay there forever.

But then there is violence, blood, as Yifan’s father fist lands on Yifan’s face. Jongdae is dragging Yifan back, Baekhyun holding a shocked Yixing and pushing him towards the door. Carlos is screaming his poor little lungs out.

“Get out of my house.” Yifan’s father roars, “My son doesn’t need people like you around him!”

“That was my gift!” Yixing argues, but Yifan’s father immediately turns onto Baekhyun, his face red with rage, the veins ugly and purple across his bloodied hands.. “You take that fucking faggot out of my house!”

“Fa-”

“Get that monster away from my son!”

Yifan didn’t feel much like his son.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers to Yixing, tripping over his own words. He tastes blood on his tongue. “I’ll- I’ll come find you.”

Yixing’s eyes are wide with concern and fear, but he nods and dashes out of the front door.

The cake sits obediently in the middle of the table.

Ruined.

//

[28 years, 53 days]

The Water God’s temple is broken. Yifan doesn’t have strong memories of this place, neither does Jongdae and Baekhyun. As children, they had steered clear of this accursed place of blessing.

There are no acolytes sweeping the Water God’s temple when they enter.

The altar is simple but full. Five pots of incense burns on in front of the Water God’s emblem. If one of those pots tip over, the Water God’s flags would catch on fire and burn. Perhaps the whole temple would burn with it.

Yifan squashes this vehement thought, and, as he had called for Yixing so many years ago, he calls for the name Yixing had always mentioned, freely, in Northpoint.

“Luhan,” He calls out, “Are you there?”

The flicker of the incense answers him with a slight nod.

“Luhan?” He calls again, “I know Yixing.”

A spider hangs from the beams.

“I- I’m his husband.” Yifan continues, “I want to see him.” Behind him, Jongdae and Baekhyun shift.

“My son, Sehun,” Yifan stammers out, “At least, him.”

Rain knocks against the windows of the temple. Smaller, louder, and it hits on Yifan’s heart.

“Well, at least we’re trapped here.” Jongdae says drily, oddly calm. “You said this was our only lead?”

“For now.” Baekhyun agrees. “Come on, Yifan. If what Yixing says is true, there will be a way to find him.”

Miserably, the three of them sit on the stone floor of the temple. It is devoid of dirt or dried leaves. For a while they are silent, as if they have forgotten how to make small talk.

Then it starts, broken, with Baekhyun talking about a recent event he had watched on the news. There is Jongdae giving his input, Yifan arguing with him just for the sake of it. It is like they are at a gathering, at one of their favourite dining places, four of them, enjoying good food and good alcohol.

Sehun would be with a babysitter, a nice looking university student called Kyungsoo who absolutely adored the kid like his own. Kyungsoo had a cute, fluffy white dog called Vivi which Sehun was obsessed with.

And Yixing would keep texting Kyungsoo, fretting over Sehun even as he talked with Baekhyun and Jongdae, until Yifan took his phone away from him with an admonishing gesture. Baekhyun would grin and Jongdae would chuckle, too used to their antics.

They were just another couple in the busy city of Northpoint Hill.

Soon they grow tired, and the rain does not let up. Yifan is miserable as he sees Baekhyun lean against Jongdae, closing his eyes to catch some sleep. The two of them must have travelled a long way here, and they didn’t even have the time to rest properly, unlike Yifan.

Jongdae’s fingers trail soothing along Baekhyun’s arms, as if petting a small animal.

There is a sudden pang in Yifan’s heart, and before he knows it there is a single drop of tear rolling out of his eye, dropping onto the stone floor with a loud splat.

Yifan quickly closes his eyes before more can fall out, but they are already streaming down his face, escaping from between his lashes, yearning for freedom.

He can hear his ragged breathing ricocheting off the walls, and he’s telling himself to stop, but he can’t.

His tears fall across the stone floor, and, as he is distracted with crying, as his friends are distracted by him crying - the water gathers in a puddle, rolling across the floor to join together a few steps away from Yifan.

When it is big enough, a hand reaches out of the small puddle, but only a few fingers fit.

“Hey, some help?” It is this voice that jerks Yifan’s head out of his hands, and the three of them watch the fingers wriggle around the pile with morbid fascination. “Some more water, please?”

It’s a voice that’s softer than Yixing’s own, a bit more lighter. It is Baekhyun who opens the doors of the temple, letting rain water cascade in.

The puddle grows bigger and bigger, and a man’s naked upper body pokes through. “Hey there! I’m Luhan!” The man says cheerfully, holding a hand out. The curve of his features bear clear resemblance to Yixing, and Jongdae heaves out a huge sigh as he takes in the fact that the man had just come out through the floor.

Yifan just stares at him. Luhan is... not an angel.

“Hello?” Luhan squeaks out, his held out hand turning rigid. Baekhyun quickly leans in and takes it. “Hi, I’m Baekhyun, Yixing’s friend.” He smiles winningly, confidently. “We have come to look for Yixing and his son, Sehun.”

“Of course!” Luhan exclaims, “I know all about you! And I already have a plan for you!”

Still half-submerged, Luhan takes out a folded piece of paper from nowhere, and spreads it open on the ground in front of him.

On it are lines and squiggles, some things that remind Yifan of a child’s treasure map.

“See here,” Luhan says energetically, slim finger jabbing at a large X on the paper. “This is Yixing’s room, he’s placed under guard there,” The man says excitedly, “And this,” his fingers trace a jagged line that runs in circles and ends somewhere outside the sheet.

Yifan really isn’t following.

“I’ll take you through my portal,” Luhan is still harping on, “Then you follow this to Yixing! Get Yixing, get Sehun, come back to where you started, through the portal you go!”

“Wait, portal?” Jongdae says in alarm, “What the shit are we going? Who the shit are you?”

“Oh! I forgot to mention! I’m Yixing’s brother!” Luhan says cheerfully, “And you are the secret agents my brother’s lover has employed to finish the task! I got guard uniforms prepared for you guys to sneak in! They might not be in your size, though, I thought you’d be taller...”

“We appreciate the thought, really.” Baekhyun remarks drily. “Since you’ve got everything planned out, shall we go, then?”

“The fuck? This is a half- a... not... plan! Just- seriously? Yifan, say something, you can’t possibly be doing what mermaid here says.”

“I’m a nymph!” Luhan says hotly, “Not one of those abominations! Plus, you guys might have high-tech gadgets and stuff, but you don’t have a man on the inside! I am the man on the inside!”

“Where do you even know about these things?” Jongdae groans, “Soap operas?”

“No! That’s such a crass guess!” Luhan argues, turning a bit red in the face, “Comic books! They’re so good!”

“Figures.” Jongdae smirks, leaning his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder, effectively ending the conversation.

“So...” Yifan finally speaks, “We just... go in? And out?”

Luhan crosses his hands, ripples emerging across the surface of the water. “Of course it’s not as simple. You are seeking passage to the Water God’s palace, and the Water God only favours one type of mortals.”

“Fishermen.” Baekhyun says quietly, “That’s what mother said in the phone call, when Eric... he was no fisherman, but he tried to run away on the sea.”

“There are not many fishermen left in the village.” Luhan says, gaze lowered. “You need his blessing.”

//

[17 years, 175 days]

Yifan hasn’t swam under the sea for half a year. Yixing had seen the bruises, two nights after Yifan had turned seventeen, when Yifan had fulfilled his promise to go find the angel. Yixing had stayed so quiet, then. Both of them had agreed not to mention Yifan’s 17th birthday again.

And then Yifan had become scared. 

How did Yixing remember him, now?

Did Yixing hate him?

A few days later, Baekhyun left for the big city in Northpoint, on his full scholarship to become a doctor. It was a large chunk of money - all the school fees, the housing, the food and other things - Baekhyun had taken all of them.

It was then, that a wild, roguish idea was born in Yifan’s mind, but he quickly suppressed it before he lost control.

But the alcohol had gotten worse. The smell of smoke was everywhere in the house, and Yifan would only light his own in response. His parents started sleeping separately - his father on the couch, his mother on the bed. There were no more bruises, no more pain, but there were the pointed silences, and when they broke, the noise, the negative words. 

Carlos grew older and older. His first words were a joy to the whole family, even though Alexis didn’t seem to share the sentiment.

And the fishing continued, but Yifan did not dare look down into the sea. He did not dare see the porcelain face staring at him from among the waves, judging him for what had happened in his house that day. Judging him for being weak.

Worse of all, he was even more scared of looking down into the water just to see darkness.

Then Eric disappears, and darkness rises up and engulfs both of their families.

“I told him- I told him to make his own lunch- I was tired- Is it my fault?” Eric’s mother sobs.

“We were gossiping about- school,” Isabelle whispers.

“I didn’t say anything to him.” Choruses both fathers.

“What did you say to him?” Yifan asks Jongdae, in private. There’s a grim look on Jongdae’s face. “I told him, you’re like Yifan’s friend, aren’t you?”

Yifan punches him and breaks his nose. Jongdae lets him.

But Yifan will never know whether Eric is like him, and Yixing. All he knows is that Eric is not like Yixing, because Yixing would never drown to death.

They find his body two days later, washed ashore and pecked by seagulls. Eric’s skin had always been fair, and he had always been lanky, despite all the labour his parents made him do. Yifan’s search party is on the other side of the bay, and they have to run to get to the spot.

Jongdae’s mother was wailing when he got there.

It was a strange, morose feeling that had sunk over the village that day.

It was a strange, morose feeling that had sunk over Yifan and Jongdae. Yifan wouldn’t realize it then, but for Jongdae, Eric was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

//

[28 years, 53 days]

The irony, really. That he is not a fisherman anymore. Wasn’t this the very same thing he was trying to escape from? 

His footsteps are heavy.

It is Selina who opens the door, surprisingly.

“What are you doing here?” She hisses, and her face pales even further when she sees the two men behind Yifan. “Leave!” She insists.

“Who is it, Selina?” A gruff, all too familiar voice sounds from the house. Yifan did not anticipate the sudden tang in his nose, the urge to weep, the thickness in his voice.

“Just a salesman,” Selina calls back, “Nothing to worry about.”

But Yifan’s mother have already come to the door, and her shocked reaction breaks the illusion Selina is trying to paint.

The peaceful, quiet, calm, yet lonely and depressed life of the Wu family breaks with the shocked cry of Yifan’s mother.

“My sons,” She weeps, rushing to caress Yifan’s face. He resists the urge to duck away, letting her trail fingers over his features and body.

She’s must shorter than he remembers. Much older, too. Her skin is loose, dotted with age spots. Her fingers are trembling.

“Yifan,” She weeps, “And Jongdae, and Baekhyun. My sons, you are home.”

The mug that lands on the floor shocks her, the porcelain breaking on impact. Unlike her, Yifan had not even entertained the possibility that this could ever be a proper welcome. He pats her on the back awkwardly, then shoulders past her into the house.

His father’s back greets him. The old man is looking out the kitchen window, seated in a wheelchair. A plaid red blanket covers his legs.

“What are you here for?” The old man rumbles, “Here to laugh at your poor parents? Have you not shamed us enough?”

“Dad-”

“The gall of you!” Yifan’s father shouts, turning his wheelchair around to face Yifan, “The gall of you to come here and call me your father!”

Yifan quiets, and the two stare at each other for a long time.

“I need to go into the sea.” Yifan says, “I need your blessing.”

“I don’t care.” His father spits out, but his roar is but a remnant of the past. “You are not my son. I don’t care about you.”

“Father...” Baekhyun murmurs from behind, and puts his hand comfortingly on Jongdae’s rigid shoulders.

“Then I will die in the sea.” Yifan concludes.

“You don’t deserve to receive such a burial.” Yifan’s father spits. “You don’t deserve this honour. If you die, you die on land, far away from this village. You will die old, in your fancy bed in your fancy town. I don’t need you here polluting it.”

“Hey!” Jongdae snaps, but Yifan turns to glare at Jongdae, quieting him. “Thank you, father.” He says, “I’ll be sure to do that.”

His mother is wringing her hands, desperate. Age has weighed down on her, on both of Yifan’s parents. Age is a gift to Yifan, as well as a curse.

//

[17 years, 289 days]

“I can’t do it anymore,” Jongdae stutters, “I- can’t take it anymore. Fucking hell, I’m leaving here. I’m leaving this shitty place. You hear me? I’m getting out.”

Yifan stares at Jongdae. They are in the cafeteria, sitting side by side. Jongdae’s gaze isn’t on Yifan, isn’t on his plate, it’s on the edge of the table. “I gotta leave,” Jongdae continues to ramble, “Baekhyun already said he could take me in. Yeah, I’m going.

“I’m going!”

Then Jongdae chugs down the remaining water in his cup and rushes out of the cafeteria. The large doors swing close behind him, and Yifan stares in the direction of Jongdae’s departure.

He stuffs another spoon of mashed potato inside his mouth, and it is bland as ever.

A few minutes later Jongdae is marching back in, sitting down in front of his own discarded tray.

“I can’t do this, man, I can’t.”

Yifan nods, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “You gotta help me, Yifan. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Jongdae is rocking back and forth in his seat, and then suddenly he’s scarfing down his food, like it’s his last meal on earth.

“Eric’s funeral is tomorrow.” Yifan says quietly. “That’s why I gotta leave.” Jongdae says as he stuffs the last of the mash down his throat. “You gotta help me, Yifan, you gotta help me.”

“Eric’s funeral is tomorrow.” Yifan repeats, and Jongdae falls silent finally.

They finish their meal in silence.

Jongdae never shows up to Eric’s funeral. Yifan holds the umbrella for Jongdae’s mother as she weeps, and he holds the umbrella as Jongdae’s father and Yifan’s father pours the soil over the closed casket. He holds it as Yifan’s mother helps Jongdae’s mother into the car, and the family leaves this small-scaled funeral.

“Where is he.” Yifan’s father asks as soon as they arrive in their own house.

“Who?” Yifan asks, his heart leaping erratically. He tries to keep his calm as he shakes water off the umbrella and closes it.

In his freshly pressed, antique suit, Yifan’s father grabs the nearest chair and flings it in Yifan’s direction. He raises his arms immediately in self-defense, but he still falls backwards and hits the door, the knob digging painfully into his back. His arms thrum with pain, and he can barely move from his posture as the chair hits the floor with a crack.

“You know who the fuck I’m talking about!” Yifan’s father yells, marching towards him.

“I don’t know!” Yifan screams back, and then he’s slumping onto the ground as his father punches him in the face.

“Tell me!” His father roars, spit flying into Yifan’s eyes. He closes them as his father’s rage lands on him, blow after blow, blow after blow, blow after blow, and Yifan’s mother is screaming, too, trying to drag Yifan’s father away, and Yifan just remains curled in a fetal position, his suit torn and ragged from his father’s abuse.

His father screams something to his mother; she takes two steps back in slight fear, but immediately she screams back. His father’s face is turning red, the veins protruding from his neck. His mother isn’t any better, the lines on her face etched deep.

Then Yifan is roughly hefted up and thrown to one side as Yifan’s father grabs his wallet and stomps out of the house.

“I’m not done with you!” Yifan’s mother screams, “I won’t let you waste my money on a bitch!”

“I don’t have a bitch!” Yifan’s father turns around, growling, “Just let me get a goddamn drink, woman!” And he leaves. Yifan’s mother sinks to her feet, and then quickly collects herself and runs out after him.

Crouched there, Yifan makes up his mind.

//

[28 years, 53 days]

With his father’s roundabout blessing, they once again make their way back to the Water God’s temple.

They don’t have to call for long before a man materializes above the smoke of the incense pot. There is something familiar of him, a certain quality that could be found in both Yixing and Luhan. But this merman is much more stoic than Luhan, much more cold and aloof. His skin is a deathly pale, almost sickly.

“I am Junmyeon, Yixing’s brother.” The figure opens his mouth. “Father is waiting for you.”

In front of the altar, water starts to collect rapidly, until a huge translucent ball of water is formed.

“Please step through.” The merman continues without much further explanation. “Just the suitor, please.”

Jongdae and Baekhyun’s fingers are interlocked as Jongdae pushes Yifan in, knowing that he’ll need that extra nudge.

The portal is gelatinous to touch, and as soon as he steps in, he stumbles and falls to his knees. Immediately there is a cold sensation against his neck.

He is in the Water God’s throne room, and it is just like Yixing had described.

Extravagant, smooth white marble surrounds Yifan, cold and chilly, yet imposing. Tall, plump pillars support the ceiling of the room. Outside this room, outside this palace is the abyss, where dangerous creatures lurk, depths of which man can never reach.

The floor is inlaid with sea shells, but Yifan cannot feel it underneath his legs. It is a smooth, transparent surface that runs across the entire floor, until it reaches the marble steps that lead to the Water God’s throne.

Armoured guards stand in two rows, facing one another, on both sides of the room. Yixing had said that they were all nymphs, every single one of them who lived at the Water God’s palace. They were all the Water God’s children, one way or another. There were just some children who were less favoured over others and were put into the roles of servitude.

Yifan tilts his head up slightly, and two eyes stare at him from the slit of a helmet with unfeigned curiosity, but the guard remains in his position, his weapon against Yifan’s neck threateningly. Nothing about this guard is dangerous, save the silver sword.

“So.” The Water God’s voice booms across the hall. Yifan tries to look up, but a supernatural force makes him avert his eyes almost instantly, as if he is prevented from gazing upon the God’s true form. “You are the mortal who dared take my son away, who dared impregnate him with your substandard human seed. Did you really think you could outsmart a God?”

Yifan remains silent.

“I will smite where you stand, mortal!” The Water God roars, the nymphs next to him wincing with the force of his words. “Repent of your sins!”

Yifan keeps his mouth shut, kneeling on the marble. The God’s repressing aura forces him down.

“You will give my son nothing but heartbreak,” The Water God rumbles, “You will die, and you will leave my son and my grandchild alone.”

Yifan waits for the Water god to fall silent. Finally, he says, “May I see my son?”

“I am a merciful God.” The Water God says condescendingly, “Of course I will allow you to see my grandchild.”

One of the guards bow sharply and hurry away, armoured tail flicking left and right.

There is an eerie silence that falls over the hall, then, despite it being packed with people. Yifan remains calm in the face of an irritated, but prideful God.

Soon the doors creak open again, and a familiar tuft of unkempt black hair enters Yifan’s view.

The guard is holding Sehun’s hand as the boy waddles into the room, clearly terrified. A short, emerald tail is there, in place of his legs, the same shade as Yifan remembers. His bottom lip is scabbed - he must have chewed on it again. It had taken so many months for the couple to break the boy out of this habit, and now he’s gone and picked it up again.

He looks quite well-fed - Sehun has a huge appetite, even inside Yixing’s stomach.

Of course, these are the things Yifan observes later. Now he is dashing across the hall, an unstoppable force, and the guard by his side had been caught off guard by Yifan’s sudden movements.

Sehun sees him too, and the little boy is lunging forward as well, but the guard next to him is more alert. Inches before Yifan can hug his son again, another nymph rushes close and grabs Yifan around the arms from behind, pinning him in place. Yifan thrashes and thrashes, and the nymph is slowly losing his grip.

“Stop right there!” The Water God shouts, but Yifan simply explodes. “That’s my son!” He shouts, “My son that I raise and I love! You have no right to withhold him from me!”

Almost as if on cue, Sehun’s cries turn even louder, and his little fingers are reaching for Yifan, pleading for Yifan, and the nymph has to let him go.

Yifan’s runs his hands over Sehun, perhaps a bit harshly, but Sehun is crying, his little chest heaving up and down. He’s repeating the word ‘dad’ over and over again, and Yifan plants his face with kisses.

The flat of the blade is digging painfully in the back of his neck, but his baby is safe in one piece and that is all that matters.

Then, the Water God finds his voice again, and then he is screaming for his guards to take Sehun away, take Yifan away, but Sehun is kicking and screaming, and Yifan is like a rabid dog defending his territory.

Then the true blow hits, and Yifan collapses, his head ringing from the hit on the back of his head. He reaches a hand out, but it’s not enough, and his baby boy slips from his grasp once again.

Now two nymphs hold him down, and this time, it is not the flat of the blade placed against Yifan’s neck, but the sharp edge of it. He watches on distraughtly as his boy is picked up roughly, armour jarring against his skin, and Sehun is put next to the Water God’s feet, still rubbing at his tear-swollen eyes.

“Take one last good look at this mortal, child.” The Water God instructs softly, but his voice reaches Yifan’s ears. “He is the one who dares touch a child of God.”

“He’s my son.” Yifan spits out angrily, but the words seem to fall flat.

They fall upon nothing.

“Child, you are one of us. You are an immortal, like us.” The Water God continues his soothing melody, “You are far superior than any mortal.”

Sehun’s bottom lip quivers. He says something. Yifan can’t hear it from where he stands, but the Water God clearly can. The God’s fists clench, and Yifan wants to lunge forward again, stop this monster from touching his son, but he cannot die before he sees Yixing again.

Then the Water God is reaching a stiff hand out for Sehun, as if to ruffle his hair, but Sehun ducks away sharply, stumbling away from the deity.

“He’s my dad!” Sehun screams, his high-pitched voice carrying across the hall and bouncing off the walls, “Not you! I want my dad!”

“Insolence!” The Water God roars. Sehun’s face scrunches up, and he begins to cry all over again. Every noise of distress he makes tears at Yifan’s heartstrings, he wants to go there, he wants to hug his son, he wants to kill everyone who is making his son cry.

Sehun is crying for his dad, but the guards have their hands around the boy again, dragging him away from both the Water God and Yifan.

“Take him to the dungeons!” The Water God spits, “I want him locked away - Yixing and Sehun are not to go close to him!”

“They will never stop trying.” Yifan spits out vehemently, blood rushing into his brain, “They will find me.”

“You are just a mortal.” The Water God thunders again, “Do not place such high of a confidence in your value.”

“I love him!” Yifan shouts, “I love him, and that is why I trust him! I trust him when he says he loves me, I trust him when he says he will stay by side forever!

“You don’t actually know Yixing.” Yifan sneers, “You don’t know any of your sons and daughters. You have eternity, but no matter how much time you have, you will never have their unconditional love.”

He looks up, and the Water God is frozen rigid in his seat, a tired old man who has survived forever but never lived properly. The guards standing near him are shifting on their feet, eyes peering out of the slits of the helmets, some dejected, some hopeful, some dark.

The Water God slams his hand down on the armrest, and Yifan blinks, lowering his head.

“Very well.” The Water God’s voice is cold and flinty, aloof. Yifan can no longer stare upon him. “Take him to Yixing’s room. I will pass my judgement tonight.”

//

[18 years, 0 days]

Yixing had touched his bruises with shock and tender care, as if unbelieving that Yifan’s father could ever do this to him. His angel’s touch made Yifan feel like he was healed.

“Go with me.” He says, “Come with me to Northpoint.”

Yixing’s eyes widens. His lower body is still submerged in water, and his cold limbs are frozen, as if he’s never considered this possibility before.

“My father will be unhappy.” He finally says.

“So will mine.” Yifan chuckles in response.

“No,” Yixing shakes his head, withdrawing his hand, but Yifan grasps it and interlocks their fingers. “You don’t understand. He is a God. He will kill the both of us if he finds out.”

“Then we’ll never let him know where we are,” Yifan blurts out. He does not know the implications of this sentence, but it feels like the right thing to say. “You are the son of a God?”

“Yes.” Yixing answers, his eyes searching. “My father is the Water God. I am... immortal.”

You are an angel to me.

“We can never go near the sea again,” Yixing continues. The thought seems to distress him, but he’s already rising from the water as if magic, until his toes touch sand and wood. “If we go near water - he will know, and he will try to take me back. He hates it - he always wanted his family close.”

“I already have a bag ready -” Yifan says, “I am just- you- come with me.”

“Alright,” Yixing says, shakily, sounding very much like a stressed teenager much like Yifan is. “I need to - take care of some things. Call for me at the Water God’s temple, and I will- See you.”

“Okay.” Yifan replies, voice tremoring equally as bad, “I’ll wait for you.”

The star crossed lovers meet and take the last bus to Bluemont, just in time to catch a morning train to Northpoint.

Yixing is asleep when they get to Northpoint, and it breaks Yifan’s heart to have to wake him up. Already Yixing looks tired, his pallor a bit sickly. His human legs seem weak and brittle. “Just a bit of a headache,” Yixing murmurs.

In the next few days, they sleep on the floor of Baekhyun’s flat as Yifan bustles around, trying to get a job, doing odds and ends here and there. He busies himself with taking care of Yixing.

In truth, the guilt eats away inside Yifan. How much more does he need to shame his parents?

He cannot give them a child, and now, he cannot even continue the family business. There are no sons left. But if he is asked to stay, just because Jongdae is gone as well - he isn’t that self-sacrificial.

Baekhyun is gone often; with four mouths to feed, everyone is busy. Jongdae is the one who teaches Yixing how to be human, how to be independent. He seems a bit judgemental still of Yixing. He thinks Yixing must have been a spoilt boy from the town, but he stays quiet.

He’s matured much more in these few weeks, but he’s still the same.

The truth is, Yifan knows Jongdae understands him.

He knows Jongdae understands his worries, his fears. Worries that he’ll be a burden to Jongdae and Baekhyun. Worries that he can’t take care of Yixing. Worries if leaving was a good decision.

Worries about their family, worries that he’d be left all alone again. Worries that when Yixing voices about getting a job, he wants to leave Yifan, now that he’s free from the sea.

“I can take care of you.” He blurts out.

“You don’t have to.” Yixing answers him, taking his hands between his own “This is you and I, together, not just you. Let me.”

//

[28 years, 53 days]

His lover- his husband is sickly pale when the guards push him inside the small room. “I haven’t eaten anything,” Yixing whispers against Yifan’s ear when Yifan helps him sit up on the bed. His whole being is trembling as Yifan holds him. An emerald tail curls around Yifan’s waist.

Gently, Yifan lifts Yixing up and puts him on his lap, so Yixing can rest his head on the crook of Yifan’s shoulder, drawing comfort from it. He is much lighter than Yifan remembers, and his heart breaks again. “Eat, then,” He murmurs, nodding in thanks to the nymph that puts down a bowl of porridge and leaves quickly afterwards.

Yixing shakes his head, even when Yifan holds the spoon up and presses it to his lips. Yifan places the spoon back down, worried. He knows Yixing is immortal, but how much?

How many time has passed since Yixing had been taken from him?

Too long, far too long. He tries to coax Yixing to eat again, perhaps it would make him feel better, but Yixing pushes his hand away.

“I want to look at you,” Yixing says instead, “I want to look at you until I die, my dear, human husband.”

“No,” Yifan interjects, “I am the one who wants to look at you until I die, my dear angel. Sehun needs you with him, forever.”

“They will take you from me.” Yifan can hear it in Yixing’s voice, that his angel is about to cry. “You will always be in my heart.” Yifan vows, and he kisses Yixing’s forehead, kisses his tears away.

Another nymph carries Sehun in, and he quickly scampers to Yifan’s side, eyes wide with fear and disbelief. It’s almost as if Sehun is afraid that Yifan will disappear if Sehun doesn’t stop looking at him.

“Have you been well, Hunnie?” Yifan asks, lifting Sehun up and placing him on the bed next to Yixing. The boy’s lips are pursed stubbornly, and he shakes his head rapidly, like a little puppy. He’s silent, now.

“What now?” Yixing asks Yifan, gathering Sehun into his arms. The boy goes willingly, clinging to Yixing’s neck. Their emerald tails go well together.

“I have no idea.” Yifan admits, “See what y- see what the God wants, I guess.” He touches the top of Sehun’s head, and then with that same hand, cups Yixing’s cheek.

“Are you scared?” Yixing asks.

“Not really.” Yifan answers, truthfully. What more can they do to him? All men die. Not many can be like him and die in his lover’s arms.

A sudden thought crosses Yifan’s mind, and he blurts out, “Have I been a good father? A good husband?”

Yixing laughs lightly, a soft sound that brushes against Yifan’s heart like a feather. Sehun also looks up at Yifan in wide-eyed awe. “You loved us,” Yixing answers him gently, “You loved both of us.”

But love isn’t always enough, Yifan wants to say, but these are not the words he should be telling Yixing.

Another nymph enters the room, it’s Luhan and Junmyeon. There’s a tray in Luhan’s hands, and a bowl of soup that seems to shine golden.

“What is it?” Yifan asks, and Junmyeon’s gaze rises from Yixing’s figure to Yifan’s posture. “You are very confident, and very brave.” The nymph comments. Luhan’s mouth opens, as if he wants to say something, but Junmyeon gives him a pointed glance.

“I am neither of those things,” Yifan answers Junmyeon. “But I love him.” Yixing covers Yifan’s hand with his own.

Junmyeon inclines his head to Luhan, and the nymph holds out the tray with shaking hands. “I’m not eating it.” Yixing croaks out when Luhan approaches the bed, his voice raising with impatience. “Myeon, I told you I’m not eating it!”

“What is it?” Yifan repeats, this time with alarm. The golden sheen of the soup seems ethereal, unreal. On first glance, it does not seem dangerous, but so does the Water God’s palace. He instinctively scoots forward, placing Sehun behind him completely, and half-shielding Yixing.

“It is ambrosia.” Luhan says, “It is the food of immortals.”

“Besides, this bowl is not for you.” Junmyeon says, his face softening. “It’s for your lover.”

Yifan squints. “What?” Yixing croaks out.

“Drinking ambrosia turns your blood into ichor,” Junmyeon explains, “Supposed that you survive the process, you will live a half life. You will be... frozen in your current age, but you must drink ambrosia everyday, or the years will catch up on you instantly. Anything that will kill you now will kill you in the future.”

“But you will be immortal!” Luhan quickly throws in, “You can stay here!”

“If you survive the process, and drink the ambrosia every day.” Junmyeon adds drily, but not maliciously.

“Why would the God do that?” Yixing stammers, “He- he- He isn’t like this.”

“He is a God.” Junmyeon summarizes, “When have we ever understood how Gods think? Now, will you drink?”

In answer, Yifan reaches a hand out for the bowl, but then a sharp sting makes him retract it. “It hurts,” Yixing says calmly, but there are tears welling in Yixing’s eyes, as if he is the one hurting from it. “It hurts a lot,” Yixing repeats, “You will- it will hurt, for you were not meant to be immortal. You will- it is a cursed life, a torn life, every time you drink ambrosia it will hurt- it will keep you alive, but it will hurt you, every day. You don’t have to do this for me- for us.”

“But I am doing it for the two of you.” Yifan smiles, a sudden calm resting over his heart. It is now that he truly feels a father’s wrath, but it is one that is kind and loving.

“I don’t want you to.” The tears are spilling, and Yixing brings a hand up to cover his face. “It will hurt so much, and I can only watch you hurt, every day for the rest of our lives.”

“Forever.” Yifan asserts, “I will be by your side forever.”

A snot-filled sob interrupts whatever Yifan is going to say, and the couple turns to see Luhan blowing his reddened nose on a napkin, crying. A resigned Junmyeon is holding the tray as he looks at the other nymph helplessly.

“I’m sorry.” Luhan sobs, “This is just so- sad- so touching- please continue...”

A giggle bursts out of Yifan’s throat, and when Junmyeon and Yixing are turning to him in alarm now, he reaches a hand out and lifts the bowl, pressing it to his lips.

“Yifan!” Yixing exclaims, but Yifan quickly stands up and out of Yixing’s reach. “Good luck,” Junmyeon gives a faint smile, “The double bed in Yixing’s chambers have always been too large for him.”

The first sip of the ambrosia is like drinking honey. Smooth and syrupy, but heavy, the taste clinging to his teeth, clogging his senses.

“You need to drink all of it.” Yixing whispers. Yifan does, forcing it all down his throat.

Then the fire begins, and Yifan closes his eyes as he stumbles back into Yixing’s hold, waiting for when he can open his eyes again.

The last thought he has in his head is that it is fitting, that if he is to die today, he would die in the arms of the angel who saved his life so many years ago.

//

[22 years, 201 days]

When Yixing started vomiting, Yifan had thought it was an adverse reaction to being away from the sea for too long. For four years they had hidden in Northpoint Hill. Yifan had gotten a proper job with the garage he had been apprenticed with, while Yixing was thriving in the pet shop - they had managed to afford a decent house which they had fallen in love with on first sight.

But if Yixing was to return to the sea, he would never come back. Yifan hadn’t dared voice his fears to Yixing, he didn’t want to force something prematurely, a discussion that they didn’t need to have.

Instead, Yixing been the one to broach the topic, by holding up a pregnancy test that showed positive. Yifan had sat down, shocked, not knowing how to react at all. He’s not unfamiliar with the stick - he had found so many of them in the trash, attempts from Alexis to hide it.

But to imagine a man bearing a child - it is far beyond the capacity of Yifan’s understanding of the human body.

“I am not human, Yifan,” Yixing had broached gently, as if scared of Yifan’s possible reactions. “You have to remember that.”

And Yifan knows that, doesn’t he? His hands are calloused, and there are already white strands in his hair. He’s grown taller, his gait more steady, but Yixing still looks the same as he had when they had first met, 8 years ago.

“We don’t have money for a kid,” Was what came out of his mouth. “We can make more money,” Yixing says gently. Yifan’s gaze falls onto Yixing’s stomach. “It’s going to be there?” He asks stupidly.

“Yes,” Yixing answers him patiently, taking his hand and pressing it against his belly, “Our baby is inside right now.”

“Our baby.” Yifan repeats, still shell-shocked.

“Yes.” Yixing reiterates as well, his smile widening secretively. “You are going to be a father.”

Yifan’s other hand curls up into a fist, and he forces himself to loosen it. “A father?” He echoes.

“The best one,” Yixing reassures him, kissing the top of his head. “The best father.”


End file.
